Destroy Me - Ella Sheridan Page 0,7

of blocks, refusing to rush and give away the game. No one else would get hurt if she could help it. No one deserved to get hurt but her.

The night was still as she turned onto the road that led to her apartment, silent except for traffic, but that didn’t mean she was alone. She could feel him breathing down her neck—figuratively now, though she knew it wouldn’t be for long. She’d imagined his warm breath on her most vulnerable spots for so many years.

A ragged chuckle left her. Whatever was ahead, it wasn’t going to be anything like her fantasy daydreams of Fionn. No, this would hurt; she had zero doubt about that.

The streetlamp on the corner swallowed her in a pool of yellow light. As she turned into her neighborhood, the sound of firm footsteps reached her ears. She didn’t look back.

Step by deliberate step, she made her way down the block and into the drive leading to the apartments. Her landlord and his wife owned the house at the front, facing the road. A large wooden gate across the drive opened when she entered the code. Walking through, she knew better than to feel safe. Fionn wouldn’t let a gate stop him. He wouldn’t let a lock stop him. Nothing would come between him and his prey, not now that he’d run her to ground.

Sweat trickled down her spine despite the chilly November air.

Her unit was all the way at the end. Gravel crunched under her feet, disguising any other sounds. She walked deliberately, refusing to let the adrenaline send her rushing across the space to the false safety of her home. The key she held between shaky fingers could be a weapon, but could she use it? Could she strike out at him to save herself? Would her instincts allow her not to?

Cornered animals fought for their lives.

She took the two short steps up to her door. Pushed the key in the lock. Turned it.

Heat swamped her back—the warmth of a body.

The lock clicked open. She grasped the handle, pushed.

Could her breath get any louder?

Two steps and she was inside—and that’s when she knew. She’d imagined being controlled, facing her fate with dignity. She’d thought she could control the screaming urge to run.

She was wrong.

She’d made it no more than halfway across the room before a hard arm wrapped around her waist, slamming into her stomach, threatening to make her illness real instead of an excuse to go home. The body she was forced back against was equally hard. Strong. Hot.

Deadly.

Warm breath heated her neck, just like she’d imagined it would. His breath.

Oh God.

“Hello, Lyse.”

Chapter Four

“C’mere.”

The word came out hard and low, the bark intended to quiet her panic. It didn’t work. Lyse fought his hold, little whimpers of pain and fear escaping her throat. He had little doubt that the tight grip of his arm across her belly hurt; it might make him a bastard, but knowing that satisfied a part of him normally locked down in an op. But then, this was no ordinary op, was it?

Pain he understood; it was the fear he couldn’t make sense of. She’d sent him her calling card; why would she be fearful?

Dragging her back to the front door was no more difficult than lifting a wee one—the woman was slight, breakable, and even with her kicking and squirming, she didn’t hinder his moves. Once the door was secured, he put a second arm around her, below her breasts so she couldn’t bite him, and began a fresh recon of her apartment. Sparse furniture occupied the living room/kitchen. The hall to one side led to a second bedroom, set up as Lyse’s control center. Too small for an occupant, and no hideaways. He glanced up the stairs. Master bedroom and bath up there; he knew. He’d check after securing his prize.

No, not his prize. His redemption.

Back in the kitchen he pulled a chair away from the table and dropped his prisoner onto it. Lyse immediately surged back up. Pressing all his weight onto her, he looked her right in the eye. “Stop. Now. Don’t be making me do this the hard way.”

Her hazel eyes were wild, her breath rapid, shallow. She threw her body to the side, fighting to get away.

“Lyse,” he snapped.

Her breath stopped. Her gaze locked with his.

“Stop fighting me or this will be going very bad, very fast. Got it?”

She stilled in the chair.

“Got it?” he asked again.

Her nod was more of a jerk of